Saving Grace
by Crystal-Tongues
Summary: Darth Vader loved his children, but year after year of being under the control of the Emperor, he forgot himself.


"Luke, remember to pick up your toys before your uncle gets home. We don't want a repeat of last night." Aunt Beru smiled as she spoke

"No, we don't want that. Yes, I will clean them up." He spoke to his feet, too ashamed to look at his Aunt's face. As he turned to go to his room, he mumbled "it was just a drawing."

Aunt Beru grabbed his shoulder, and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Behaving yourself."

He stared back at her in fear before she let him go.

Suddenly, a warm and familiar sensation filled the young boy. He smiled and walked slowly to his room, closing the door softly behind him.

A voice filled his head, his whole being. "A drawing? What happened?"

Luke kicked around some toys on the floor. "Oh, nothing really. I just had this really weird dream! I was flying one of the rebel ships and there were these weird ships I had never seen before! I thought they were cool, so I drew them. But...I forgot to pick them up." He threw his hands up "It won't happen again! Besides, I'm just a kid. What does he care what I think of the war? He would never let me leave." He cradled an X-wing fighter as he waited for a reply

"Luke, don't worry about him. He was never very intelligent. Do what you think is right."

Luke laughed "What? You know him?"

But when looked around the room, he realized that the presence was gone. The conversations left him with more questions than answers, but he wouldn't give up them up for anything. This had been happening for a few months now, and It usually spoke to him at night after Luke's aunt and uncle had gone to bed. At first, the voice just said things like "You're a great kid, Luke" or "I'm proud of you", but recently it had been asking him questions and had become more involved in his life.

"It couldn't be Joe, or Tou, or even Mim." He said as he put his things away. "Not Beru, not Mat." Chunk, chunk. Two more toys put away.

"Augh! I just wish he would tell me who he is!"

"Luke." His hands flew up to cover his mouth. Oh god, he thought, please don't let Owen have heard me. Luke leaped into bed, closed his eyes, and let out a terribly fake snore. The door slid open and he cracked his eye open to see Owen standing above him.

"Luke, you can't go off and join any army. You can't fight. You will stay here on the farm. It's all a bunch of hogwash. We have discussed this before, haven't we? You aren't going anywhere. You need to focus on your studies and your chores. Nothing good will come of endless, stupid dreams." Luke started to sniffle and rolled over to face away from his uncle.

"You will never be a father. I'll never have a father. No one can hurt me because I will always be alone."

He closed his eyes and let Owen's yells bounce off of him. He went back to his happy place of flying and fighting.

"Luke." He started, this voice was not Owen's. The voice sounded gruff, like the owner had breathed in too many toxins at a power plant or something. Or he had been yelling for a young time. Luke shuddered.

"It's okay Luke. I won't yell at you." Luke suddenly felt very calm and still. This voice was calming and soothing, even if it did sound hurt. Where was it coming from, though? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was asleep and this was all a dream.

"I'm just a friend, Luke. I can think to you, and you can think back. I can read all your thoughts, but you can also talk directly to me. Whenever anything is wrong, just think to me and I will try to fix it."

Thinking to each other is a Jedi power. He was sure of it, someone had told him that once. Or it was in a file he had picked up somewhere.

"Okay...like this?" Luke thought back.

"Yes, exactly. You're good at this." He pushed the feeling of a smile at Luke.

Luke giggled. "Why is your voice like this? Did you breathe in a lot of bad stuff? I heard that happens to people sometimes."

"I...Yes. I was in an...accident."

"An accident? What happened?"

Vader lost control for a moment and a picture of lava and flames rose up in Luke's mind. Though it only lasted a fraction of a second, Luke was full of sorrow and terror.

"I have to go back to work now," the voice said to him, "I will be back. Sleep well, young one."

The calming presence left him and Luke just had the picture of lava flames left in his head. He realized Owne had gone and tried to hold onto the safety the voice had brought. His breathing slowed and fell asleep quickly, the flames haunting his dreams that night.

* * *

Vader clutched his chest and fell to his knees. What have I done? I should not have contacted him. He will find out that I know where he is and take him. All hope will be lost. I don't know what to do. I just want my life back. I want everything. Though years have passed, it seems to have been just a few seconds. Finally, I can speak to him and I mess everything up! A small part of him chimed in, that he had saved Luke from pain at the hands of his uncle.

"ARG!" Vader let out a wave of energy and crushed various objects in the room. Nothing could ever save him. He was stuck in this eternal blackness, this hideous body. No one would ever love him again. Luke would turn and run if he ever knew who the voice had belonged to. He would never join him, never help him to fix anything. He went into the special chamber he had built for himself that allowed him to breathe without the mask and take off the heavier pieces of the suit to rest for a while. The room had no lights so he would never have to see his own mangled body. His body sunk into the bed and he knew sleep would not come quickly, or at all. All he could see were the pained faces of everyone he had hurt. Of his daughter, whom he could never speak to because she had been adopted by rebel spies. Of his lover, who would never forgive him. Of his old Masters, that now lived in exiled pain. His mother, who died tortured and alone. Luke, who might have a chance at a happy life. Perhaps he would be able to be happy. Maybe, for the first time, Darth Vader could make a positive different in the world.

He cried out. No, he was a Dark Lord of the Sith. They make no positive differences. There is only passion.

"Only passion! Only passion! Only passion!" His destroyed voice box screamed it over and over again until hallucinations and visions combined to make a horrible nightmare. This went on until he passed out from pure exhaustion.


End file.
